


A Stretch of Mortal Time

by Songbirdsara



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Archaeology, F/F, M/M, Museums, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbirdsara/pseuds/Songbirdsara
Summary: Dr. Yuuri Katsuki is a dime-a-dozen archaeologist working with The British Museum. Sure, he's a frequent guest lecturer at Oxford with a surprisingly large coterie of grad students and post-docs lining up to work with him but snagging a coveted collaboration with Russia's notoriously elusive Dr. Nikiforov is unexpected to say the least.Mysteries begin to pile up both in the field and at The Museum when they make a startling discovery in the remote Kamchatka Peninsula. Who is buried in the mysterious tomb they uncover?And why is Dr. Katsuki so drawn to Dr. Nikiforov?***Very loosely inspired by the Broadway MusicalAida
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Mila Babicheva & Katsuki Yuuri, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 30
Kudos: 63





	1. Every Story, Tale or Memoir...

***

_Warm arms anchored him, drawing his increasingly sluggish thoughts away from the darkness, away from the staleness of the air, away from the panic slowly clawing its way up his spine._

_“Shhhh, rest now love. I’m here. Always here. I will find you.”_

_He closed his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth against his back as his mind drifted, their hearts beating in a slowing harmony._

_“Do you promise?” His voice was small, lost, frightened._

_“I promise, my darling. Shhhh, now. Rest.”_

_***_

**Late August, Present Day – The Kamchatka Peninsula**

Yuuri shivered in the cool of the pre-dawn air, shaking the last vestiges of his strange dreams. Although the late summer afternoons were often sunny and tolerably warm, the nighttime and early morning air was near freezing. London was cool, but Yuuri’s blood still ached for the balmy warmth of Kyushu summers. Summer in Eastern Russia was downright frigid. 

He shook his head, clearing it of the inconsequential thoughts as he finished prepping to head to the dig site. The familiar thrill of discovery made its way down his spine, a different sort of chill than the weather had produced. With a grin, he tossed his pack over his shoulder and pushed the canvas door of his tent aside, stepping into the first creeping fingers of daylight. 

“Oh! Dr. Katsuki! Good morning!” 

Yuuri grinned at his lead graduate assistant. “Mila! Good morning! How’s today looking? Any issues?”

The cheerful redhead fell into step at his side as they made their way towards the mess tent for coffee. 

“Nothing major, Doc! We’re scheduled to move onto that secondary burial mound this week. I’ve got Yuri and Otabek set up to run the low-range GPR, Emil’s doing the site draft and Dr. Chulanont has his crew prepping dig gear.” She consulted a rugged notebook as they walked, rattling each assignment off as Yuuri nodded in approval. “Ah, Christophe wants you to e-mail him a preliminary list of exhibit ideas by the end of the week, he wants to get the ball rolling on what he’s going to need for Customs clearance.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Chris just wants to make sure we get first crack at anything that will boost our media presence. Never mind the negotiations we’ll have to do with the Russian contingent, he’s just looking for something that’ll draw a crowd, something…”

“ _Sexy!”_

They finished Chris’ signature phrase together, smirking with the comfort of an easy partnership. It was something of a running joke that the director of the Museum’s archaeological exhibits wing was prone to using overly suggestive language. 

Yuuri shook his head, laughing, as they reached the mess tent. He held open the flap for Mila, then ducked in behind her, happily breathing in the scent of sweet, sweet caffeine. Even the field camp’s sorry excuse for coffee was heaven on this brisk morning, even if he _did_ find himself thinking longingly of the cute little café near the Museum… 

Smiling, he accepted the cup from the student on duty in the tent, then turned back to Mila and her ever-present notebook. “Okay. So, we’ll check in with Yuri and Otabek, then I want to meet with Phichit before we start digging. And have Emil see me as soon as he finishes the site draft, I want to scan a copy off to Christophe, we can use it to start building a teaser for the exhibit.” Mila nodded, her bright hair bobbing as she frantically took notes. 

“Mmm, got it! Oh! And the team from St. Petersburg State University should be showing up this afternoon, should I notify you when they arrive?” 

Crap. He’d forgotten the rest of the Russian contingent was arriving today. He had two interns from the University working for him, Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin, but they’d insisted on sending a more senior representative, since St. Petersburg State was a co-sponsor for the dig. “Ah, right. The anthropologist. Dr. Nik…Nikov…” 

“Nikiforov. Yes. I took a few of his classes before I transferred to Oxford. He’s… ah… well, he’s certainly enthusiastic. You might remember him, he was at the Museum Gala last year?” Her tone was teasing, almost insinuating for some reason.

Yuuri winced. Right. The Gala. “I met a lot of people at the Gala,” he prevaricated, avoiding Mila’s knowing smirk. 

“Soooo…”

“Yes, yes, let me know when Dr. Nikiforov arrives.” 

Mila smiled, raising her mug in salute before ducking back out of the mess tent, leaving Yuuri to brood. He wasn’t being entirely honest with his graduate assistant. He knew who Dr. Nikiforov was. _Of course_ , he knew who Dr. Nikiforov was. He’d read every paper the professor had published over the last few years, and the anthropological expert’s theories on pre-Slavic interactions between the Kamchatka region and the Western islands of what was now Japan were half the reason he’d pursued a dig in this forsaken place. He’d been hoping to introduce himself at the Gala last year, but his nerves had failed him before he could find out which of the visiting Russians Dr. Nikiforov even _was._ The free champagne hadn’t helped.

So, _of course_ the man would be showing up today. Yuuri only hoped he could manage to keep from making an idiot of himself this time around. He hesitated for a moment, then hastily gulped the rest of his coffee before pouring a second mug. 

He had a feeling he’d need it.

***

“Oi! Doc! God, are you even _listening_?”

Two hours later the caffeine had begun to wear off and he found his attention wavering. He shook his head, focusing on the young Russian. “I’m terribly sorry, Yuri, you, ah, said you may have found something unusual?” 

The blond exchanged a glance with the other intern, rolling his eyes as he tapped at the laptop screen. “Yes. That’s what I said. _Twice._ ”

Yuuri winced, knowing he probably shouldn’t let his interns run quite so roughshod over him. He _was_ in charge of this dig after all.

Technically.

Mostly.

Yuri rolled his eyes, then softened his tone. “Tcha. Snap out of it, Dr. Katsuki. The old man isn’t _that_ scary. Besides, he _likes_ you, which, whatever.”

Wait, what? 

Otabek stepped in, nudging the screen again. “If I may, Dr. Katsuki?” 

Yuuri shook his head, sternly telling himself to focus. “Mr. Altin, I apologize, please update me on your findings.” 

The stoic young grad student nodded, then enlarged one section of the screen. Yuuri recognized a radar projection of a burial mound, a larger than usual dark spot hinting at the presence of a dense object in its center. Too big for a single tomb… The back of his neck prickled as he leaned over the image, Mila peering over his shoulder. “This is the secondary mound?” he queried, seeing both interns nodding. 

“ _Da_ ” Yuri confirmed. “The one you found outside of the main ring of mounds. Baba had us start on it this morning.” 

“What have I said about calling me that, you _mudak_!”

“Maybe it wouldn’t bother you so much if it didn’t suit you so well!”

Yuuri ignored the bickering between his intern and his assistant, his eyes still glued to the screen. There was something about it, some dim almost-memory, there at the back of his mind, if he could just… 

“…suki! Dr. Katsuki?” He jolted at the sound of his name, shaking his head to clear the strange sensation. Had the student in charge of the mess tent accidentally brewed decaf this morning? He wasn’t usually this flaky. 

“Sorry Mila, I’m a little distracted this morning. You were saying?” 

She laughed, waving off his apologies. “No worries, doc!” she chirped, waving her phone. “Phichit just messaged me, the contingent from St. Petersburg has arrived. They’re unloading back at base, if you’d like to head back?” 

He nodded, patting Otabek on the shoulder as he stood. He contemplated doing the same to Yuri, but worried slightly about putting his hand so near the snappish young man’s teeth. 

“Ah, nice work on the radar imaging you two,” he said instead, eyes briefly lingering on the screen before he managed to tear them away. “Run a couple more rounds to see if you pick anything else up, then send the data to me before you shut it down.” They nodded, and he turned to follow Mila back to the field Jeep. Swinging into the passenger seat, his eyes caught on the uneven slope of the small mound. He’d been drawn to it from the get-go, something about its isolation calling to him. That strange prickling sensation returned, and he forced himself to reach into the small cooler beneath the seat, snagging one of the foul energy drinks Mila tended to stash there.

“You okay, Yuuri?” She asked softly, her rare use of his given name an indication of her concern. “You hate those things.” 

He chuckled weakly, wincing at the harsh flavor. “Blech. I really bloody do. But the coffee isn’t cutting it today and I need to be somewhat coherent to greet our colleagues.” 

She looked briefly away from the bumpy path to flash a sympathetic smile in his direction. “Relax, Doc. You’re tops in your field. Oxford would kill to have you back for lectures, the Museum loves you, you’re constantly turning down speaking engagements all over the place, what on earth do you possibly have to be nervous about? St. Pete’s doesn’t run joint endeavors like this very often and Nikiforov _never_ collaborates with archaeologists. Trust me, I studied there, remember?” She flashed her winsome grin in his direction again. “They _want_ to work with you. Stop freaking out!” 

Right.

Stop freaking out. The one thing that, for all his accomplishments, Dr. Yuuri Katsuki had never quite been able to achieve. As they pulled up to the base camp, his eyes latched onto the small cluster of unfamiliar figures milling about, unloading a pair of rugged SUVs. In particular, they latched onto one man. 

Tall, young, with a shock of unusual silver blond hair falling over one eye, and fine, sharp features. A graduate assistant or post-doc perhaps? Maybe it was the long weeks of semi-isolation, but Yuuri could already feel the warmth of desire pooling in his gut as he watched the stunning stranger shuffle heavy bags from the vehicles, muscular forearms flexing… 

He shook his head harshly. Now was not the time to be entertaining such thoughts. He scanned the group, finally fixing his gaze on an older man, a fedora pulled low over his long greying hair, a clear air of authority in his posture as he directed a younger pair towards the designated tents. As Mila pulled their Jeep to a halt within a few meters of the newcomers, Yuuri steeled himself for the introductions. 

Praying to whatever theoretical deities were listening, he dusted himself off as he stepped down from the seat and made a beeline for Dr. Nikiforov.

  
  
  



	2. Whether Planned, Or Happenstance...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri remembers what happens when you assume...

Yuuri pasted what he hoped was a professional smile on his face as he approached the formidable looking Russian, hand held out in greeting. “Dr. Nikiforov! I hope you had a pleasant trip. I’m Dr. Katsuki!” He winced at his overly boisterous tone, regretting the overdose of caffeine in which he’d mistakenly indulged. The professor grunted, staring at Yuuri’s hand as if it were a relic to be studied. He slowly dropped it. “Ah… right. Sorry, you’re probably wanting to get settled into your tents.” 

_"Vitya!”_

Yuuri winced as the man bellowed in his face. The handsome blond he’d noticed earlier jumped to attention at the sound, hastening to join them. The Russians exchanged rapid conversation, Dr. Nikiforov gesturing repeatedly in Yuuri’s direction before storming off. Which, huh. Ouch. He wasn’t a vain man, but being relegated to an assistant still stung, no matter how unfairly gorgeous that assistant might be. 

“Sorry about that,” the tall blond said, beaming down at Yuuri. “It’s me he’s annoyed with, he shouldn’t have taken it out on you, Dr. Katsuki.”

Slightly mollified, Yuuri tentatively returned the smile. “No worries, ah… Vi-Vitya, was it? Please, call me Yuuri,” he offered, his mouth stuttering around the strange name. 

The other man’s grin grew impossibly brighter and the pale cheeks grew slightly pink. “So forward, Yuuri!” He laughed, a pleased expression crossing his face. “Though perhaps we should stick with Victor in public, no?” 

Ah. A nickname then, likely to help ease the confusion of the pair sharing the same first name. At least Victor didn’t seem bothered by Yuuri’s faux pas. Though it was probably his own less than professional interest that had colored the response with a hint of flirtation. “Right. Victor, then,” Yuuri amended, offering his hand to the assistant. Victor took it firmly, a tingling warmth spreading from the contact as he looked up into the Russian’s brilliant blue eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure which of them the tiny gasp had escaped from, but he eventually became aware of how long he’d been standing there, practically holding the man’s hand. He dropped it, backing away in a slight panic. And no, he was definitely not imagining the flash of disappointment that crossed Victor’s face. 

He glanced around surreptitiously, hoping that Dr. Nikiforov hadn’t witnessed him making a fool of himself over a pretty… grad student? Post-doc? He vowed to figure out Victor’s position, telling himself it was purely professional interest and not because flirting with the latter was slightly more acceptable than flirting with the former. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Victor glancing at him curiously and hastened to repair his awkward first impression. Waving a summons in Mila’s direction, he turned back to the Russian with a brisk clap of his hands. 

“Right. Ah, I should be getting back to the site, but Mila can give you the rundown of the dig. Mila, please update Victor on our most recent findings and let Dr. Nikiforov and his crew know where I’ll be for the rest of the day.” 

Victor flashed a confused look in his direction, but he ignored it, leaving it to Mila to sort things out with Dr. Nikiforov’s contingent. The sooner he escaped Victor’s too-lovely presence, the better. 

  
“I’ll be with Dr. Chulanont if you need me, Mila,” he stammered. “A pleasure, Victor.” The Russian nodded in bemused acknowledgement as he escaped, steadfastly ignoring Mila’s altogether too knowing smirk. 

He dove for the safety of the field Jeep, grateful for once for his assistant’s habit of forgetting to remove the keys from the ignition. 

***

He found his post-doc (and closest friend) in the midst of an equipment check, dirt smudging one high, bronze cheekbone as he flicked through his clipboard. Phichit was half-dancing as he worked, oversized headphones prominent over his ears. The younger archaeologist spun in a bopping little circle, yelping when he caught sight of Yuuri smirking in the tent’s entrance. He pulled the headphones down around his neck, grinning. 

“Wasn’t expecting you, boss-man!” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Please don’t call me that.” 

Phichit’s grin notched a fraction brighter. “Yuuuuuri! You _are_ my boss, _man,"_ he teased, affecting a terrible American accent. 

“Peach, I swear to _bloody_ god…” he stopped, narrowing his eyes as he looked more closely at his friend. “Please tell me I am not seeing what I think I’m seeing,” he groaned. 

“You said no hamsters in the field. It’s not a hamster!” The Thai man clutched his hand over his shoulder, not quite hiding the long tail. 

“A rat. You’re making pets of the _rats_? The Russians are here. What are they going to think when my post-doc is toting around a rodent?” 

“That I am an intriguing man of both compassion and talent who can find something to love in even the lowliest of this planet’s creatures?” 

Yuuri glared. “Did you _practice_ that?” 

Phichit laughed in delight. “Of course not!” he lied blithely, stooping to check through a crate of spades, the rodent making a speedy hop from his shoulder to the nearby table. Yuuri just rolled his eyes, moving to drop into one of the camp chairs set up near the cramped desk. Phichit eyed him speculatively, then abandoned his clipboard before taking the other seat.

“Soooooo… what’s on your mind? The doctor is officially in,” he drawled.

“You aren’t _that_ kind of doctor. Which is probably for the best,” Yuuri pointed out with a little laugh. Phichit continued to stare at him pointedly and he quickly capitulated. “Augh, fine. Dr. Nikiforov is here.” 

“You sound less excited than I would have expected, given your encyclopedic knowledge of his, ah, entire body of work.”

Yuuri ignored the weirdly suggestive tone in his colleague’s voice. “He doesn’t like me,” he said flatly, drawing a skeptical snort from the other man. “He _doesn’t!_ He pawned me off on one of his assistants. Wouldn’t even talk to me.” He knew he was drifting dangerously close to whingeing territory, but he’d never admit it. 

Nor would he admit that he hadn’t exactly _minded_ being pawned off on said assistant…

Phichit looked unusually pensive, for once without a snappy comeback. “Hunh,” he half-grunted. “I’m… honestly kind of at a loss. He seemed excited about the project before…”

Which, what? “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I talked to the bloke at the Gala. He was practically glowing talking about this. About _you_. About _working_ with you.”

“Okay, that… that just sounds fake,” Yuuri muttered. “The man wouldn’t even shake my hand today.” 

Phichit’s eyes blew wide in unfeigned shock. “Okay. Now _that_ is definitely strange,” he mused. “Has he said anything since you talked last?” 

Yuuri eyed his friend in confusion. “I mean, we’ve emailed a time or two, but it’s not like we’ve really _talked_.” To his surprise, Phichit barked a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Noooo, I suppose you didn’t really _talk_ much,” he said between giggles. Which, again with that weirdly insinuating tone. It was beginning to grate on Yuuri’s nerves. He stood to leave, ignoring his friend’s protests. 

“Aw, Yuuri, you know I’m just teasing you!”

“Just... not in the mood right now, Peach. I want to move on that secondary mound this afternoon. Plisetsky and Altin found something about three meters down, I want to find out what it is, soon.” 

Phichit straightened in contrite surprise. “Right. No worries, we can move as soon as you’re ready. Sorry Yuu…” 

Yuuri nodded curtly, slightly mollified. “Thank you. Just… this is important. Okay?” 

“I get that, Yuuri, I do,” Phichit said softly. “Just… remember that this is _your_ project okay? Nikiforov _wanted_ to work with you on this. Whatever’s going on between you two, he _chose_ to be here.” 

Yuuri gave him a half-hearted smile. “Right. Thanks, Phichit. I’ll send Mila over with the excavation team in a bit, okay?” He barely waited for the waved acknowledgement before stepping out of the tent, pulling deep breaths of the still chilly air through his lungs. In the distance, he could see a rush of movement from the cluster of tents he had assigned to the St. Petersburg crew. Quickly dragging his attention away from the flurry of activity, he fixed his gaze on the distant mound that had been catching on his imagination. 

Why was it so far from the remainder of the burial mounds? His memory caught briefly on the over-large shape from the radar projection. Someone of particular importance perhaps? He frowned, feeling as if the thought wasn’t quite right. 

No. 

Not of importance. Of _notoriety._ There was _purpose_ to that separation. He felt a thrill of… excitement? Trepidation? Something, anyway, was crawling its way down his spine as he gazed at the perplexing anomaly. 

***

“Ooooh, I _like_ the idea of a mysterious burial mound! Mystery I can work with. Mystery is most definitely sexy, _mon cher_.”

Yuuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing Christophe would catch it despite the grainy quality of the video. “Well, the point is to _solve_ the mystery,” he pointed out patiently. “Did you get the scan of the site draft?”

“ _Oui, oui_ , I’d recognize Nekola’s hand anywhere. It’ll look good in the preview flyer. See if you can get some better shots of a few of the artifacts you’ve retrieved from the initial mounds. Phichit’s got a good eye, get him to work some magic for me, won’t you?”

“I’ll ask him. Once he’s finished prepping for today. I have him riding herd on the undergrads right now.”

“You have your post-doc on shovel detail? How cruel!” 

This time, Yuuri _did_ roll his eyes. “It’s a dig site. We’re all going to be on shovel detail at some point.”

Chris’s grin widened. “Ahhh, Yuuri, don’t tease me. Now I’m imagining you handling a shovel, and poor me not there to see you _work_!”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Giacometti…” 

Chris sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll behave. Get me those pictures. And _try_ to get a few of those artifacts approved for export soon, hmmm?” 

Yuuri nodded. “I’ve already applied for the proper permits, just waiting on clearance. I’ll call again soon.”

***

It felt like days, but Yuuri knew it had only been hours when he stepped into the mess tent, his stomach reminding him that it had been far too long since he’d last indulged in a real meal. Just his luck, Victor and a handful of the St. Petersburg crew had the same idea. 

“Yuuuri!” He half-cringed at the foreign sing-song, his name sounding far too delicious on Victor’s lips. Turning reluctantly, he did his best to smile at the lovely Russian. 

“Ah, Victor. Hi? All settled in then?” 

The tall blond beamed at him, much too chipper for Yuuri’s peace of mind. “We are, thank you! I have just been catching up with Mila, she mentioned that you were planning to start excavating the secondary mound this afternoon? I confess, I was intrigued by that one when I saw it on the site map.”

“You, you’ve reviewed the site maps?” 

Victor looked at him quizzically. “Yes? That _is_ why you sent them, is it not? So that we could familiarize ourselves with the project?” 

Yuuri flushed. “Right, ah, of course. I don’t know why I was surprised.” He ran a sheepish hand through his hair, cursing his awkwardness. Over Victor’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Dr. Nikiforov scowling in their direction. He hunched in on himself, trying to hide himself behind the taller man. “I don’t think your boss likes me very much,” he offered, responding to the question in Victor’s eyes. To his surprise, the Russian laughed delightedly. 

“Please, do _not_ let him hear you call him my boss! He would like that far too much!” 

Yuuri’s lips twitched, Victor’s mirth proving infectious; those blue, blue eyes sparkling and far too pretty.

“Ugh, fuck no, please don’t be gross,” came a familiar snarl. Victor’s mouth flashed in a ridiculous heart-shaped grin as he turned away. 

“Yuuurraa!” he half-cheered, drawing a grimace from the intern. Otabek stood behind Yuri, something Yuuri could swear looked an awful lot like amusement lurking in his eyes. 

“Nope, nope, nope, nope,” Yuri spluttered, backing out of the tent and dragging Otabek with him by the hand. Victor watched the interns depart, a slight pout marring his perfect features. Yuuri couldn’t help the tiny chuckle that escaped him at the forlorn expression on the taller man’s face. 

“I take it you and Mr. Plisetsky have a bit of a history?” Yuuri asked, genuinely curious about the strange interaction. Victor flashed him a wry grin.

“You could say that, yes. He will not thank me for telling you, but he’s my step-brother.” 

“Oh. Huh…” Yuuri was a bit nonplussed at the revelation. “Interesting that you’re both on this project…”

“Oh! No, no! That is why he will not thank me for telling you of our relationship. Yura would never have taken this internship if he thought I helped him get it! He applied on his own; I didn’t know he was trying for this until after your initial shortlist was made. But, well, he wanted to work on this project. I believe he rather looks up to you, you know.” 

Yuuri half-choked. “Ah, that’s, that’s not… that doesn’t seem, ah, quite right?” 

Victor chortled at his distress. “Oh, I assure you, it is quite real. Yura wrote about you for a class paper. Twice. You’re extensively referenced in his Master’s thesis proposal.” 

Yuuri glanced around desperately. “Oh gods, don’t repeat this, but I feel like we’d be murdered in our tents if Mr. Plisetsky caught wind of this conversation.”

The silver-blond Russian beamed. “Oh, absolutely! He’s rather violent, isn’t he? But it’s all talk, he’s just very ambitious. Which is why he looks up to you so much! Tops in your field, three books published, head of the British Museum’s Archaeology department… it’s a rather impressive CV!”

Ruffling a hand through his unruly raven looks, Yuuri tried not to splutter. “It just… it feels like a stretch. I mean, St. Petersburg has its fair share of luminaries in this field, Yuri didn’t have to go hunting so far abroad.” 

Victor glanced down at him curiously. “There’s nobody at St. Pete’s that’s as well known in the field of archaeology, Yuuri. And that is what my brother wants to pursue. We have experts in other fields, yes, but that is why _you_ are leading this project, not me.” 

Yuuri’s brain stumbled over the compliment before finally catching up to the last part of Victor’s statement. “Victor, wha…” He stopped as Mila and Emil stumbled into the tent, laughing about something as they entered. Mila blindly bumped into Victor, a tiny squeal escaping her before she caught herself. 

“Oh! Dr. Nikiforov! I’m so sorry!” She smiled between the two of them before she and Emil continued towards the buffet, leaving Yuuri to gawk in her wake. 

Victor smiled at Mila’s retreating form before turning back toward Yuuri. “Ah, Ms. Babicheva. She’s another one you’ve stolen from me. I’d rather hoped to make her one of my graduate assistants before she defected to Oxford you know!” He beamed brilliantly down at Yuuri, who blinked up at him in a shock of sudden realization.

Well.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this fic, please take a look at some of my other works. AUs, canon-compliant, funny, serious, the whole dang gamut! 
> 
> *Potential Spoilers Below!*
> 
> Thank you all for checking out the first chapter! I do want to reassure those readers who are familiar with Aida that the tags you may be looking for aren't missing by accident. This... isn't quite going where you may think it's going. I am debating a few additional tags but they probably aren't the ones you're thinking of. I don't want to give too much away since there is an element of mystery to this story, but if you've only listened to the soundtrack, you may not be familiar with the scene that inspires the entire fic. 
> 
> If you're super curious, you can hunt up video of the scene on YouTube (there's a really shaky version here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3chzEmB0k4) It's during the end of the overture, right before Amneris turns around to start "Every Story is a Love Story". There's some other aspects of the story (specifically the ending) that will come into play, but that scene always stuck with me. Two people looking at a mysterious artifact in a museum. I saw a production in Ohio (with Mickey Dolenz from The Monkees!) many years ago and that scene stuck with me. What happened after? This is my attempt to answer that question, though with some obvious changes. 
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy! See you in two weeks!

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this years ago and keep coming back to it. Will hopefully update every two weeks! 
> 
> All characters are aged up by approximately 10 years from the beginning of YOI. Canon age differences remain the same. 
> 
> Please forgive any inaccuracies. While I've done a decent amount of internet research, I am not an archaeologist or anthropologist! 
> 
> All titles come from lyrics in the Broadway Musical Aida. It's one of my absolute favorites and I've always been intrigued by the opening scene. This story is very very loosely inspired primarily by this opening sequence and a sort of 'what happens next?' in what is the 'present' of the musical. If you're familiar, you might be able to figure out some of where this is going. Either way, I hope you enjoy!


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